


Take my hand

by Moonstruckidiot



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: AU, Emperor Hux, Hux is Not Nice, M/M, vulnerable ben, will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12144873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstruckidiot/pseuds/Moonstruckidiot
Summary: Ben Solo has been running a long time but it seems he can't escape fate. Emperor Hux finds a tortured Ben Solo.Hello, first fic in this fandom :-)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I normally write for the Hannibal (TV) fandom but have a little crush on Kylux, :-) and had this idea  
> I love Emperor Hux and there are not enough fics so I'm writing one
> 
> I am not the fastest of updaters (as I tend to get side tracked by writing other ideas) but I do finish fics
> 
> not betaed, sorry for mistakes

How Ben Solo came to be lying on the ground of a dark, dank cell is a long story. It starts with a child who couldn’t keep the voices away, with parents whose love couldn’t overcome their fear and a choice which never really was one. It is a tragedy, one to be told another time.

.....

“Sir.”

When Armitage Hux is out with his troops he prefers to be called “Sir” it’s less of a mouthful than all his other titles. He also prefers them not to drop to bended knee when they address him, but some of them, particularly the young ones, cant help themselves.

“Get up,” he says. _Imbecile_ is bitten back from the tip of his tongue. It’s all well and good showing your emperor due respect but it makes him an easily identifiable target for snipers.  Fortunately the castle has been secured but that isn’t the point.

The officer gets to his feet, keeps his head bowed and starts to stammer.

 _Good grief_ , thinks Hux. Who the _kriff_ trained this man.

Fortunately today is a good day, a very good day. A day when the stronghold of the Knights of Ren finally fell and because Hux is, according to his PR people, a strong, wise and fair emperor he decides he can be tolerant. He relaxes his shoulders, puts a smile on his face and takes the snark out of his voice. “Go ahead with your report,” he says.

“We’ve found something you might find of interest.”

The delivery is garbled but just about understandable. Hux resists the urge to give Phasma, his trusted right hand, a disapproving squint but he is sure she has already assigned the officer for retraining.

“Lead the way,” says Hux _and it had better be worth my time_.

.............

There is a thing trying to disappear into a corner.

Hux takes a step closer. It is a thing of blood and bone, tortured physically, and if he knows the knights at all, mentally scarred for life.

There is little reason, thinks Hux, for the knights to keep someone alive unless there is information worth obtaining. He is not aware of any of his officers being captured recently, he likes to be kept informed of these things. It is not beyond possibility though. If the thing is from the First Order and it has talked then its life may as well end here in the cell. There is another possibility, one very, very unlikely.

Hux takes another step forward, and even though he doesn’t think it possible the thing shrinks further in on itself. Then the floor and the walls start to shake and isn’t that a surprise and not at all an unpleasant one.

Hux calmly orders Phasma to put away her blaster and leave the room. She protests, but he is the emperor and he always gets what he wants.

Force sensitives are very rare these days and they are quite the prize. The man cannot yet be sufficiently broken, reasons Hux, or he wouldn’t be in a cell in the dungeon the evidence of torture still fresh on his skin. Of course it could be a trick to plant a spy but Hux has a nose for these things and he doesn’t believe it to be the case.

 _Idiots,_ he chuckles to himself. Snoke will not be happy the knights left this initiate behind, but what is their loss is his gain.

Hux settles down onto his haunches. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says.

The man does not move, there is no response at all. It’s what Hux would have expected and he is a patient man when the rewards are worth it.

“I wont allow anyone to hurt you. The knights have gone.”

“No. _He_ is still here,” responds the man tapping a finger to his temple.

Hux represses a sigh. It is going to take some time to convince the man to come with him but it would be much better if he came willingly rather than be dragged out.

 A dull ache is starting in the back of Hux’s legs. If this is to be a long trust building exercise he needs to be in a more comfortable position.  He eyes the floor. A shiver of disgust runs down his spine but, and never let it be said the emperor is not willing to make sacrifices for the greater good, he moves down into a crossed legged position.  His limbs are grateful, if not his great coat, and as a gesture it says to the man he sits opposite, ‘I’m here with you, I’m trusting you.’

“Is it Snoke?” asks Hux in his best, only brought out on special occasions, compassionate voice.

He gets a nod for his effort. It’s something.

“I need...” its difficult for the man to speak. Hux surmises his throat is probably red raw from screaming.

“I’ll get someone to bring water.”

Rising and heading to the door Hux sends storm troopers scurrying to all corners of the castle.

The air outside the cell is a little fresher than the vomit inducing stench inside. Hux catches Phasma’s eyes and grimaces. Her smile is almost pitying, almost but not quite, who after all would dare pity the emperor. He sucks in a deep breath, pulls himself to his not inconsiderable height and turns on his heels.

He is able to return to within millimetres of his original sitting position. One layer of filth is enough, two layers is not something Hux wants to think about. Instead he peers at the hair of the man opposite him. Seeing past the dirty, black...maybe black or maybe just filthy, hair is difficult. A rather impressive nose and set of ears protrude out but everything else is down turned and hard to make out. Hux will have to wait for another time to solve that mystery.

“What is your name?” Hux asks.

His question is ignored in favour of a demand.

“I need my cuffs,” the man croaks out.

Hux decides, given the circumstances, he can overlook the man’s rudeness. “I don’t remember seeing any,” he replies whilst affecting a puzzled look.

A set, of well worn, force suppressor cuffs had been found earlier. They are not the sort of thing normally associate with the Knights of Ren, intrigued an officer had gone looking and found this cell and its inhabitant. Hux made a mental note to promote the officer in question.

Lies can easily be spotted by a force sensitive but Hux is betting that the man is too frightened to consciously use his power and too damaged to just go by his instincts. Hux has no intention of allowing this man’s power to be suppressed, if it is to be shackled it will be shackled to him.

And with perfect timing a cup is placed by Hux’s side.

The gift of water, of life, is entirely for Hux to give, or to take away. With almost idle slowness his fingers find the side of the cup and rest there.

It’s a game now, how much can he get for a sip of water.

Getting up from the ground Hux moves forward and comes to a crouch he tips the edge of the cup to the man's lips.  

“Just a sip,” Hux says. “Too much, too quickly and it might make you vomit.”

“Ben, my name’s Ben.” Hux likes to reward good behaviour he allows Ben another sip.

Hux shifts back and away from Ben, he takes the cup with him.

“What did _he_ call you?” asks Hux as he resettles into his original sitting position.

“Kylo,” replies Ben. They both know it's a simple exchange, water for information.

Hux nods, his eyes run appraisingly over Ben.

“It’s a good name it suits you,” he concludes.

The slight tensing of Ben’s shoulders and a small annoyed huff doesn’t escape Hux’s notice. _Good_ , he thinks, _there is still some spirit in him_.

Truth is no matter the name Ben had been given Hux would have said it suited him. ‘Kylo’ though is a good name and Hux has decided to keep it.

He offers Ben the cup, the whole cup.

“You are not the man who was dragged into this cell,” says Hux, he bites back a speech and keeps it short. “You understand, Ben died here in this cell. Kylo is the one who will walk out.”

“No, no,” Ben shakes his head. “I’m...”

Hux interrupts him, “Ah, no. Whoever you were before is gone.”

Mind recoiling in disgust Hux makes his fingers push dirt encrusted hair behind Ben’s ears before finding their way to his chin. It’s as gentle a gesture as Hux can manage.

“Snoke and the knights took Ben, they killed him but I promise if you come with me Kylo Ren will be a name they will regret ever forming on their lips.”

Hux stands up and offers Kylo his hand.

It seems all it takes to buy a man is a cup of water and a promise.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days Kylo spends in the med bay. Hux does not visit he has, after all, an empire to run.

Some rulers love the banquets and the balls, the fawning courtiers and the adoration of a populace who believe even a touch of their hem will cure all ills. Then there are rulers who are gods of war and little else. Hux is neither of these.

Days and nights are spent considering the health, education and employment of his subjects, as well as, the need for laws and taxation. If he was asked he’d say what he really enjoyed planning was conquest. It’s what he’s really good at, and it’s guaranteed to give him a hard on which cannot be said for even the most skilled courtesan.

Right now though Hux is distracted from his duties. His eyes flick from his data pad and the illustrious careers of candidates for the governorship of some cess pool of a planet he cannot remember the name of, to the image of a tall, thin man on his console.

Two hours have passed since Hux asked for Kylo to be escorted to his favourite audience chamber, there are another three. This one is the smallest, and much more intimate than the throne room, but it is still a grand space. He prefers to meet his long term allies there, it reminds them of who he is whilst flattering them that they get to see the emperor in a more personal setting. It is not true of course but the illusion is important strategically.

Kylo appears to not be so impressed by the space or the wealth on display. In his restlessness he is picking up every other treasure on display and appraising them. Hux is in no doubt Kylo could tell him how much each item is worth and if any of them are fakes. Just like a smuggler, he thinks. Just like his father.

Of course Hux knows exactly who Kylo is. On his return from Ren castle he had had the last known image of Ben Organa-Solo aged. It hadn’t need aging, not really, the hair, nose, mouth were all tell-tale but Hux wanted to be sure. He would have described his own smile as ‘smug’ when the identity of his prize was confirmed. In his possession was, not only, a powerful force user, but also, the son of one of his most annoying sworn enemies.

The long lost son of the princess and the smuggler. And, muses Hux, isn’t that little piece of history a godsend for the holovid industry. It is one of the empires most popular storylines, admittedly subject to a ‘little’ revision personally approved by him. Only The Storm trooper and the Dancer is more beloved. He can’t help but wonder if Kylo has seen any of the ‘adult’ versions of his parents courtship. It is a trivial thought, especially for an emperor, but an amusing one none the less.

With his boot clad legs on his desk Hux peers at the console screen. If there was anyone else in the room he would never let them see him so casual, but he and his public image are not always the same. He can’t help a little chuckle as he marvels at how someone as large as Kylo could be birthed by the diminutive Leia. In the cell where Kylo had been found he had seemed to merge with the dark and it had been impossible to get a good look. In the light of the audience chamber it is easy to see he is a physically imposing man, tall and broad shouldered although, due to his captivity, far too thin. The clothes Kylo has been provided with hang off him but Hux sees no point in having things tailored to fit until he has filled out.

Picking up his data pad Hux allocates sometime for devising a fitness regime to bring Kylo back to peak health. Kylo is a weapon after all, a neglected one but with the right care he could be the best one Hux has ever had the pleasure of working on. Rest, nutrition and exercise are essential but not as important as rebuilding him emotionally and psychologically. Snoke tore him down but Hux knows the greatest rewards are to be found in putting Kylo back together again.

There is an extra spring in his step when Hux gets up from his chair and heads out into his private garden. It's a small area only accessible though his rooms, droids keep it maintained and he likes to sit out there on a morning and feed the birds. All he needed was patience and bribes and now they flock to feed from his hands. In return for their loyalty Millicent, his cat, knows she cannot prey on them. Any other birds are hers to stalk, play with and kill but these belong to him. Kylo too is like these little birds and Hux knows with patience and bribes, of one sort or another, he’ll be as trusting and loyal as they are.

Altogether it is three hours before Hux makes his way to the audience chamber. When the doors are opened for him he scans the room and there is no one man-handling the statutes or thumbing the ancient books. Hux wonders if Kylo has, out of boredom, made an escape, if so he’ll have to be punished. He doesn’t get very far thinking through a potential list of (relatively light weight) punishments before he finds Kylo.

The sofa on which Kylo has curled himself up on is, one of four, tucked right at the back of the room in an almost semi circular arrangement. Hux continues forward taking care to minimise the sound of his boots on the tiled floor. It gives him the perfect opportunity to openly observe Kylo without any need for the false decorum he normally has to adopt. Kylo has kicked off his shoes and folded his jacket to use as a pillow, his face is visible despite a mop of hair falling forward. In sleep it is, thinks Hux, a far too boyish a face for something so potentially dangerous. It could be a hindrance to Kylo’s authority or an asset depending on how it was wield.

If Hux was in a brothel reviewing the merchandise he would pass over Kylo, there are more handsome men and more beautiful women to take to bed. Kylo is recovering from torture and malnutrition so perhaps it is a little unfair but even so he is not quite Hux’s type. But then Hux is normally just looking for a warm body to make use of, something pretty to mess up and he knows Kylo is much more than that.

Hux bats thoughts of bodily pleasures away and considers the decision to be made. Should he sit on the same sofa as Kylo or on another. What message does he want to send, is it the distant emperor, look, worship but do not touch or something more friendly, more worthy of trust. He is of course well within his rights to wake Kylo and berate him, if he were his father Hux would probably have him executed for the insult of falling asleep. Hux though is not his father instead he opts to sit down in the space next to the sleeping man. He rests his data pad on his lap and patiently starts tapping away.

**Author's Note:**

> If no one reads this, it's totally fine, lol


End file.
